


Show me what I want

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Jealousy, Longing, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki’s plans don’t always work in their intended manner. Sometimes, the end result is even better. Sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show me what I want

It was with a sensation of disbelief and dismay Loki regarded his brother as he leaned over a book, his face drawn in concentration, his blue eyes sweeping over the images and letters on the pages with keen interest.

Loki has never seen Thor regard a book with such scrutiny. Not even those rare books Thor had deemed worthy of his attention in the past; predictably they almost exclusively touched the subject of battles that were slowly edging their way from history into myths and legends.

Thor has never been a believer in acquiring knowledge from written words, he has ever preferred a hands-on approach to studying, and his favoured method of ‘if you cannot solve a problem, simply hit it hard enough’ has been the never-ending source of Loki’s exasperation; and not only because it seemed to _work_ in worryingly large amount of instances.

So why in Hel’s name was Thor almost devouring a book that consisted solely of detailed descriptions and images of various unorthodox and quite imaginative means of having an intercourse was beyond Loki. The fact that all figures tangled up in each other were _male_ made it all the more disconcerting.

By Loki’s count it has been almost an hour since Thor had found him and appropriated his book. Loki could not recall ever seeing Thor willingly spend more than half an hour in the library. Which, to Loki’s growing exasperation, meant only one thing: he might have miscalculated a bit.

Frowning at the blonde head still leaning over the pages – currently inspecting an image of a rather uncomfortable looking, in Loki’s opinion, position for the man on the bottom – Loki tried to pinpoint the exact moment his plan has gone so horribly wrong. It was a simple plan, and it should have driven Thor away while causing Loki minimum of grief. And yet, an hour later, here was Loki: sitting on a small wooden bench, with his brother pressed against his hip so they could _both_ enjoy the view of images depicting creative ways of one man taking the other.

It was becoming glaringly obvious that he ought to have left the book in its original state of describing Alfheim’s, and not have spelled it to appear as tractate on male love. If Loki had been bored beyond belief with its content: a seemingly never-ending string of names with nothing but their noble birth to claim as achievement; Thor would have been asleep after three sentences.

But Loki did not think; could not think past the burning resentment that seethed within his chest when Thor had appeared, smiling brightly and behaving as for the past year he has not done all in his power to avoid Loki at all cost. And so when Thor started to tease him, playfully reaching for his book, Loki reacted impulsively, following the first idea that came to his mind: to shame and anger his brother into departing.

It seemed Loki did not know Thor as well as thought he did. _That_ thought did not sit well with Loki; for more than one pathetically sentimental reason. As for the implications of Thor’s fascination with the subject of the book; that was something Loki has stored in the back of his mind, to be examined later when his own emotional state would not impair his reasoning.

His annoyance aside, Loki was grudgingly impressed that Thor had managed to find him. This part of the library was almost always abandoned. It was situated deep within the history section which only rare few ever visited. Even Loki was here solely because a delegation from Alfheim was due to arrive next month, and some things, no matter how trivial, were expected. It was expected of Loki to appease the guests with his knowledge of their long history and customs, just as it was expected of the elder prince to charm them with his gregarious manners, and then impress them with his fighting prowess.

It was the way of things, the way of _them_ , Loki knew this, but it was a hollow, bitter comfort when it meant ever to stand behind his perfect brother, just a pale shadow to his brother’s shining glory.

Not a small amount of bitterness followed the trail of Loki’s gaze as it traced the lines of Thor’s handsome face, noting the first hint of a beard on his cheeks – Loki’s own cheeks were smooth and showing no promise of a beard – before moving downwards over broad shoulders and hard muscles Thor’s thin tunic did a poor job of concealing.

Norns were generous with their gifts, Loki thought with a tight clench of his stomach, as if their aim had been to bring to life the very ideal of Asgard’s masculine beauty and strength. It appeared they have succeeded with Thor; there was no man, woman or child who would not find themselves swept by his brother’s glow.

Loving Thor was laughably easy; Loki knew that better than most. Even with all the things that grated on Loki’s nerves like his brother’s volatile temper, his recklessness and arrogance; all Thor had to was appear with his wide, beaming grin and call him ‘brother’ in that ridiculously loud and joyous voice, and-

Loki blinked, startled. Thor was looking at him, expectantly, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Yes?” Loki asked, trying to appear bored. The widening of Thor’s smile told him exactly how successful he was.

“Where did you find this book?” There was laughter in Thor’s voice, his eyes glinting with amused fondness.

Loki had to take a moment to breathe through the first ridiculous instinct that made him want to smile back. It disappeared quickly, swept under the wave of indignation and aggravation of having Thor here, behaving as if the last year happened only within the realm of Loki’s mind.

“It is amazing what you can find when you know where to look, Thor,” Loki answered, dryly.

Thor blinked, then his gaze swept across the rows of books surrounding them with a newfound appreciation. Loki swallowed a snort, deciding that if Thor truly believed books of such nature could be found within the palace’s library, he was more than welcome to try and find them.

Loki opened his mouth, ready to hint at such, but Thor has already shifted his attention, his eyes drawn toward the lewd drawings with seemingly irresistible force.

It was odd to look upon his brother and see him so engrossed in a book – especially this book – and Loki felt like he could not quite determine whether he was more exasperated or baffled by Thor’s behaviour.

It was evident, though, that Thor had no intention of departing anytime soon. Grudgingly, Loki decided to bear with it, and gather as much information on this new-found side of his brother as he possibly could.

As moments trickled into hours, Loki found himself slowly relaxing. It was… pleasant, to be here, next to Thor, feeling the comforting warmth of his body, no matter how bizarre were the circumstances. Loki loathed to admit it, tried not to, but some truths were too large for any a lie. Even the ones Loki could conjure up.

Loki had missed Thor. Missed even that loud, boisterous laugh of his, and how his fingers somehow always seemed to find their way to the back of Loki’s neck. But he would rather rip out his own tongue than to admit it out loud.

And he still wanted to rip something of Thor’s for blatantly ignoring him for an entire year.

Later, Loki decided, he would think of something later, but for now he would have this moment of peace with his brother.

Even if it meant gathering knowledge Loki has never thought to search for within the pages of any book. Granted, Loki’s knowledge on the matter was somewhat sparse, but still enough to know that intimacy and pleasure of this kind were far better acquired through practice. And if the stories about his brother were even fractionally true, Thor needed not to look to any book to show him how to please a lover.

Loki glanced down at the book, felt his lips curve on the edges. Asgard has long since abandoned its old prejudice about men laying with other men; but despite how evolved it was, Asgard still remained far too traditional a society to make it desirable for the elder prince to be publicly tied to these manner of relations.

Loki sincerely doubted the same stood for the younger one.

The smile slipped from Loki’s face, his stomach twisting with bitter resignation; it was easy to love Thor, but being his younger brother was the most wretched curse the Norns could have bestowed upon anyone.

“Why do you have need of this book?”

Loki looked up at Thor, baffled. Thor regarded him with a frown, his eyes not unlike storm clouds amassing across clear blue sky. The realization dawned then, and Loki felt all his goodwill toward Thor dissipate in an instant.

“Do you not think it is far too late for righteous indignation, brother?” Loki sneered. “You have been slobbering over these pages for hours now.”

Thor’s cheeks flushed with heat. “That was curiosity, nothing more,” Thor exclaimed, appalled. “It was you who’d sought it on purpose.”

Loki breathed through the urge to clobber Thor over the head with the damned book, ignoring the small voice inside his head that reminded him this was exactly the reaction he had wanted to achieve.

Glaring at Thor, Loki slammed the book closed. A faint green glow shimmered across the book. Loki cursed inwardly his own folly, but Thor did not seem to notice; his eyes remained fixed unblinkingly on Loki’s.

“Very well then,” Loki said, each word coated in venom. He leaned forward, lowering his voice until it was no more than a whisper, his lips forming a tender smile. A strange expression flickered across Thor’s face. Strangely enough, it almost resembled… panic. It disappeared quickly; leaving Loki uncertain whether it was there in the first place. “Next time, I will make certain to trip over this book in one of the halls so I could have your vaunted approval, brother.”

With one last glare at his brother, Loki stood up, intent on leaving.

Loki had made only two steps when he felt strong fingers gripping his right arm. He had no time to react with anything but a surprised ‘oomph’ before he found himself face to face with his furious brother; Thor’s hands two steely vises wrapped around Loki’s upper arms.

“Get your hands off me, you fool,” Loki demanded, outrage and fury blazing to life within his chest. He squirmed in Thor’s grip, but that only made his idiot of a brother squeeze harder, drawing a pained hiss of breath from Loki.

“Not until you give me the answer,” Thor ground out, loosening his grip fractionally. He continued scowling at Loki; his eyes dark and dangerous.

“Shouldn’t I at least hear the question first?” Loki snapped, his voice high with indignation and exasperation. He made no further attempt to break out of Thor’s hold, knowing it to be futile. Thor has always been the stronger of the two, and not at all reluctant to use it to his advantage.

Thor glanced down at the book in Loki’s hand, now acting as a feeble barrier between their bodies.

“I am in no mood for your games, Loki,” Thor growled. “You know damn well what the question was.”

Thor looked as someone standing on the very edge of control; a storm waiting to be unleashed. Loki smiled at him.

“I would think even you would be able to surmise the purpose of this book on your own, Thor,” Loki said in a low, mocking tone. Thor’s eyes flared; a flash of lighting tearing through darkened sky. “There might not be half of Asgard waiting for one kind word from me, brother, but I am hardly without charm of my own.”

“ _Who_?” Thor’s voice was little more than an enraged snarl. He shook Loki hard, like Loki was no more than a petulant child or an unruly servant, his fingers leaving bruises underneath Loki’s leather coat. “I demand to know his name.”

It occurred to Loki that this was further than he had intended this game to go. But Loki could not halt it anymore. Nor did he wish to; his chest felt like a nest of vipers, choking him with their poison.

“What is troubling you, Thor?” Loki arched one mocking eyebrow; calmly defiant in the face of Thor’s barely leashed fury. “That someone might find me desirable? Or is the fact that he is a man what makes you swell with righteous indignation?” It earned him another vicious shake, drawing a low growl out of his brother’s throat. Loki merely smiled at him: wide and insolent. “I haven’t thought you were such a hypocrite, brother.”

“His name, Loki,” Thor demanded, his voice rough as gravel.

“What concern is it of yours whom I allow into my bed?”

Thor’s breathing came out in harsh pants, his eyes narrowed into slits, blazing with impotent rage. A distant part of Loki’s mind remained baffled by Thor’s vehemence; Loki had expected a a violent reaction, but this was too extreme even for his brother and his volatile temper. “I am your older brother, and you will tell me his name, Loki. Or I swear to Norns, I will-” 

And that was it; Loki has had enough of Thor and his idiocy. “The only thing you will do is release me, Thor, or _I_ will do something you will most certainly regret,” Loki hissed, glaring at Thor. A faint glow emanated from Loki’s fingers, drawing Thor’s attention away from Loki’s face for a brief moment.

When Thor looked up from Loki’s hands, his expression seemed almost pained; helpless fury battling with what little restraint was in Thor’s possession. Then, with a frustrated growl, Thor let go, and Loki staggered back half a step before he managed to regain his balance.

They glared at each other one long moment, the air between them thick with animosity, the silence of the library disturbed by their harsh breaths.

“What I do in the privacy of my bedchamber is no concern of yours, Thor,” Loki said, keeping his voice carefully controlled. Thor blinked, opened his mouth, but Loki stopped him with a raised hand. “And as long as I do it with respect to our name and exercising discretion, neither is it Father’s.”

“It was not my intent to bring this up with Father!” Thor protested, sounding hurt and offended, even though the fury in his eyes did not lessen in the slightest. He continued scowling at Loki, as if sheer intensity of his glare would pry out of Loki’s mind the answers he sought.

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line; there was no point in furthering this conversation. It was evident that his initial plan has disintegrated utterly into chaos, growing out of Loki’s control. And while there was nothing even remotely wrong with stirring up chaos every now and again, Loki preferred to keep clear of its impact, not end up trapped within its heart.

“Last year has made it clear you are skilled in keeping your distance from me,” Loki said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Thor visibly flinched, guilt flashing across his features. “It would be wise if you were to employ that skill for the foreseeable future.”

Without waiting for a reply, Loki turned, half-expecting Thor to once again stop him from leaving; already calculating how much trouble they would be in were they to demolish one entire section of the library. The answer seemed grim, advising hasty retreat.

To Loki’s immense relief, Thor did not attempt to stop him, but the heat of his brother’s glare on the back of his neck had stayed with Loki long after he had left the library. 

 

****

 

Thor had not listened.

Much to Loki’s annoyance, in the space of two weeks his brother had gone from carefully avoiding any closer contact to turning into Loki’s scowling, persistent and very much unwanted shadow.

It was infuriating; wherever Loki went, Thor was certain to follow. And no matter how good Loki was at shadowing his steps, Thor seemed even better at following them. Loki’s private chambers were the only place in Asgard where Loki could be certain Thor would not make an appearance.

Thor has not made an attempt at conversing with Loki; contending himself to glaring murderously at Loki from afar whenever his attempts at uncovering Loki’s secret have failed.

As amusing Thor’s efforts have been in the first two days, Loki was weary of them now. He knew how irrationally stubborn Thor was, and considering Loki’s secret lover was no more than a construction of Thor’s mind, this ridiculous game could last indefinitely.

As his exasperation with Thor’s antics strengthened, Loki was beginning to believe his brother had asked for Heimdall’s aid. It was not as farfetched a notion at that; Thor has always been a blind spot for the Guardian’s all-seeing eyes. Unlike Loki, who was as fond of Heimdall as the Guardian was of him. That is to say, not in the least.

At the end of the second week, Loki was ready to strangle his brother and not feel regret in the slightest. As satisfying as it would have been to wrap his hands around Thor’s neck and squeeze, in terms of an actual plan, it was not a reasonable one.

Unfortunately, that left Loki with only two options. He could suffer through this and hope Thor would grow tired of failure. It was unlikely a scenario, excluding an appearance of something that would need Thor to pummel it to the ground.

Or he could confront his brother.

 

****

 

A small cave on the eastern shore was one of Loki’s favoured places in Asgard. It was remote, sheltered and offered much needed privacy for what was about to occur.

It was also one of Loki’s rare hideouts he had not shared with his brother. Loki has often come here in search of privacy he could not find in the palace. Ever since he was a boy, Loki has thought of privacy as one of rarer commodities, even if he was second born son of Odin, and not the heir to the throne.

With a sweep of hand, Loki cleared the surface of a small rock that was situated somewhere in the middle of the cave, giving Loki clear view of the entrance. Then, with a small sigh, Loki sat down, resigned to waiting.

After ten minutes of waiting, Loki cursed his own short-sidedness. He could have at least brought a book to help him pass the time. A low unamused chuckle escaped Loki’s throat when he recalled he had yet to finish reading the damned book that has started all this nonsense.

Half an hour later, Loki had conjured up a small glowing orb and let it float in the air above his head. There was no need for additional lighting, the cave was small enough for daylight to spill freely through the mouth of it, leaving only the furthest corner cloaked in shadows.

Glancing up, Loki watched as the orb floated above him, mimicking the patterns Loki drew in the air with his fingers. It was hardly what one would call a quality entertainment, but any distraction from the churning maelstrom within Loki’s mind was a welcome one.

Thor was a stubborn, obstinate fool who loathed being denied anything; that was nothing new to Loki. But he was usually a predictable fool, a fact Loki appreciated immensely. Not anymore, it seemed. Nothing about Thor’s actions as of late made much sense to Loki. Not the avoidance, and certainly not this recent folly: acting as if nothing would make him happier than keep Loki locked up somewhere, preferably under Thor’s watchful gaze.

There was logic to Thor’s actions, Loki knew this to be true, but what it was eluded Loki’s grasp. It infuriated Loki, perhaps even more than having to suffer Thor’s constant vigilance. Thor was not a man whose actions were affected by whims; he was simple, straightforward soul, whose mind and heart very rarely came in conflict with one another. So why was Thor now behaving thusly, when usually he had been the first one to try coaxing Loki into idle amusement?

With a low sound of impatience Loki rose to his feet, glancing at the cave’s entrance in helpless frustration. Thor would come, of that Loki was certain. His brother has never known how to accept defeat.

A crunch of stones underneath heavy boots was the only warning before a large figure appeared at the mouth of the cave, blocking the light.

But the glowing orb still floated in the air above Loki’s head, giving him clear view of Thor’s heaving chest and wide-eyed gaze which scanned the cave with frantic urgency. It froze in startled surprise when it reached Loki. The next moment it morphed into a look of immense relief.

“Hello, brother,” Loki said softly, tilting his head to the side. “You seem surprised.” Thor blinked, his expression slowly drawing into a frown. Loki’s moth curved about a sharp grin. “Did you expect to find me on my back? Or on my hands and knees?”

A low growl of, ‘Loki,’ fell from Thor’s mouth as he entered further into the cave, his hands balled into fists by his sides.

Loki stood his ground. “That is the reason you are here, is it not?” Loki said in a carefully controlled voice. Thor was now standing within arm’s reach: a massive, looming presence, far too big for this place. “To catch me with my lover?”

Thor pressed his lips into an angry line, his expression drawing up in distaste at Loki’s last word. Then he straightened his shoulders, lifting his chin stubbornly. “I would have preferred not to skulk about Asgard in search of you,” he said, sounding not in the least remorseful, “but you have left me no choice, Loki.”

Loki blinked, exhaling slowly. There was a noise on the outskirts of his mind that was growing louder with each beat of his heart, drowning out all thought and reason. 

“What you are saying then,” Loki said, his voice barely rising above a whisper, “is that _I_ am to blame for your disregard of my privacy and blatant disrespect of myself?”

Thor blinked, uncertainty flickering briefly within his gaze. It was gone within the space of two breaths, lost in the fierce scowl that was etched upon Thor’s features. “I have asked you to grant me your… your lover’s name freely, but you have refused,” Thor grated out, his eyes locked on Loki’s. “You have left me no choice.”

Loki knew it was a tremendously bad idea when it occurred to him, knew it when he drew back and swung at his brother, but he would not – could not – stop himself. His fist collided soundly with Thor’s face, drawing a low grunt of pain from his brother and sending him staggering back a step.

Pressing his fingers to his bloodied lower lip, Thor regarded Loki with wide-eyed surprise. But Loki’s blood thrummed with rage not yet satiated, his breathing ragged and short, and only one thought seemed clear among all other: again.

Loki charged, but this time Thor was prepared for it. He caught Loki’s hand, but Loki managed to twist out of his grip and land another punch, drawing back. Thor muttered a curse, his eyes narrowing as they circled each other: Loki felt his lips part in a feral grin.

Loki knew, in that part of his mind that was not overtaken with bloodlust and anger that he stood no chance against Thor, not in this narrow space and relying on brute strength alone. He simply did not care. Did not think past the coil of fury within his chest.

“Loki,” Thor said, keeping a careful distance from Loki. Loki could not help but notice his brother’s body remained tense, his muscles shifting as he moved, keeping himself in a defensive position. “Stop this.”

Loki’s grin widened. He might be the weaker one, and the lesser fighter, but he was not above exploiting Thor’s obvious reluctance; Thor clearly did not wish to fight him. It was not much of an advantage, not in the long run, but any advantage was better than none. Then, he charged.

Loki had managed to slip two more blows through Thor’s defence, before Thor tackled him to the ground: there, they wrestled ungracefully, in a heap of limbs, their harsh breathing echoing loudly in the small cave.

The fight had ended with Thor straddling Loki’s thighs and pinning his wrist on the ground above his head. Loki was effectively immobilized by Thor’s superior bulk, but that did not stop him from squirming furiously, trying to dislodge Thor.

“Would… you,” Thor panted, squeezing Loki’s wrist hard enough to bruise, “be… still, damn you.”

Loki glared at Thor, his own breathing coming out just as laboured as Thor’s. He stopped struggling, though. It was futile and robbed him of breath he needed to curse his wretched brute of a brother.

Loki opened his mouth, but the words froze on his lips. The fury has cleared somewhat from his mind, allowing him to notice Thor’s odd’s expression. His brother looked _wrecked_. Thor’s eyes were locked on Loki’s face: dark and wide and helpless-looking, and his breathing came out ragged and shallow, as if he was waging an internal battle. And losing poorly. 

Loki swallowed, felt the beat of his heart turn uneven. Fury was not the cause of it, and neither was fear; not truly. Loki has never feared his brother, but he could not deny that something has shifted in the small space between their bodies. Loki knew not what it was, but it made his heart clench painfully, and his stomach coil with dread and excitement in equal measure. 

Loki frowned, unease washing over him. This was hardly the first time Loki has found himself in this very position: pinned underneath Thor. But never before had he been so viscerally aware of the intimacy of it, nor the ridiculous heat and the sheer strength of Thor’s body. Loki drew breath through his nose, forcibly squashing the urge to fight against his brother’s hold. 

Loki blinked, tried to look away from Thor’s face, but found himself unable to do so: Thor’s gaze held his own in place with the same unyielding force his brother’s fingers were wrapped around Loki’s wrists.

“Loki,” Thor said in a voice Loki has never heard from him before; it sounded lost and terrified and filled with longing.

Loki’s breath caught in his throat. Then he opened his mouth, ready to demand to be released, but the words, along with his breath, were lost in his brother’s mouth when Thor suddenly leaned down and brought their lips together.

It was…not a gentle kiss, it felt more like continuation of their fight, as if Thor’s intent was to lay claim or pour all his frustration into the kiss. It was not even particularly skilled one: the angle was not ideal, their noses kept getting in the way, and it had far too much teeth. At one point, Thor growled in frustration and released Loki’s wrists so he could cup Loki’s face and angle it to his satisfaction, pausing only to catch breath before resuming the kiss.

Loki felt strangely disconnected from his body. He felt every move of Thor’s lips against his, every scrape of teeth and every lick of Thor’s tongue, but he did nothing. He simply lay there, unmoving, his arms still stretched above his head, unable to think past the surreal truth that Thor was kissing him.

Loki could not be certain how long the kiss has lasted before it turned soft, Thor’s lips sliding gentle and sweet against Loki’s, trying to coax a response; his thumbs brushing lightly against Loki’s jaw. And in those last moments of madness before Thor had finally pulled back, Loki almost did.

Thor did not pull back far: just enough so he could gaze down at Loki’s face, still framed by Thor’s splayed fingers. He remained silent, still, only his fingers moved feather-light against Loki’s face.

Loki breathed, quick and shallow, his mind still in disarray. Trying to think was like attempting to gather mist within the palm of his hand: frustrating and impossible. He could only feel, and wished he could not: his chest ached, splitting at seams, far too small for the storm that raged within its hollow.

Thor’s face loomed above Loki’s, curtailed by unruly blonde tresses; his breath hot on Loki’s face. As the silence stretched from one moment into the next and the reality slowly trickled through the haze of confusion, disbelief and shock, Loki’s thoughts grew in shape, no longer reduced to disjointed fragments with no meaning.

Loki noticed, now, that his brother’s lips were red and swollen, and not only from the kiss: there was a thin line of blood still trickling from Thor’s split lower lip. Involuntary, Loki flicked his tongue across his lips, tasting iron there. Tasting _Thor_.

Thor glanced at Loki’s lips: his eyes darkened with want, and not at all remorseful. Loki could see his brother’s throat work as he swallowed, his fingers sliding up and tangling in Loki’s hear. Then, he moved as if to lean down, a low and hoarse, ‘Loki,’ tumbling out of his mouth.

The sound of his name, said with such raw need, slithered down Loki’s spine, drawing a full-bodied shudder. It was like ducking his head into a pond with ice-cold water: as startling as it was sobering.

Loki’s hands moved the moment Loki had made the decision, blazing green, showing at Thor’s chest with magic and strength alike. A pained grunt left Thor’s mouth as he was flew back, landing onto his back on the ground; his head nearly missing the rock Loki had used as his seat.

Loki rose to his feet, his entire body shivering. He came closer to where Thor lay and looked down at him. His brother made no attempt to get up, his face drawn into a confused frown.

“Have you gone mad, Thor?” Loki said in a shaky voice, his throat burning with fury and outrage. Thor blinked up at him, still frowning. “I am your _brother_!” 

Thor flinched, as if hit, his eyes widening with horror and shame, and even in the dim light of the cave, Loki could see his brother’s face taking on an ashen pallor.

Thor pushed himself onto his elbows. “Loki, I-” his voice broke, his eyes pleading with Loki. When Loki kept silent, he scrambled ungracefully to his feet. He took a step forward, reaching for Loki’s wrist with his hand, but Loki drew back, staring at Thor with an appalled expression. Thor froze instantly, his hands rising in a gesture of surrender. “Loki, you- it was not my intent-” 

Loki could listen to him no more; could not be anywhere near Thor in that moment. He turned, and went for the entrance. He took only two steps before he caved under the unyielding pressure within his chest, and broke into a run. He ignored Thor’s voice as it called after him, and kept on running. It occurred to him, faintly, that it was not he who was in the wrong here, but it mattered little. Loki needed to think, needed to breathe, and he felt like he could not accomplish either in his brother’s vicinity.

And so like a mindless, frightened beats, Loki ran. It did not take long until he heard the sounds of Thor following after him.

It was panic, pure and simple, what made Loki stop in his tracks. He was fast, faster than Thor, but he needed to be even faster. He needed to be gone from this place, and he needed it _now_. Teleportation spell was something Loki had only recently perfected, but still felt rather uneasy about using it. Especially now. He knew that casting spells was never wise when in a fraught mental state, and casting those that affected one’s own body as gravely as transportation spell did, was bordering on madness.

Loki stayed deaf to the warnings of his own mind. No matter the dangers of the teleportation spell, the possibility of facing Thor now, with the taste of him still lingering inside Loki’s mouth was infinitely more dangerous.

Thor was drawing nearer with every second, the sound of his urgent cries of Loki’s name intermingling with the crunch of stone underneath his boots.

Loki’s heart beat furiously, but not even its thundering drum could drown out Thor’s voice, getting louder and louder. Loki did not turn to see just how close his brother was. He took a deep breath, and cast the spell.

The next Loki knew, he was staggering back a step upon a marble floor, almost colliding with a large bookcase. A quick glance confirmed that his spell was successful, and he now stood in his study. Regaining balance, Loki rushed to the great door that barred entrance to his private chambers. There, he splayed his hands against the polished wood. He muttered the words of a spell, his palms glowing green for a brief moment.

Exhaling deeply, Loki pulled back, but kept his gaze fixed on the doors: now, save from breaking down the door, Thor wold not be able to enter.

Loki stood there, staring at the door for one more moment, waiting on his heart rate to return to normal. It did not.

Loki could not recall making the decision, nor walking to the small chamber adjoining his bedchamber. A large golden bowl filled with spring water sat on a round marble table in the corner; next to it was a tray with various scented oils, and above it was a small shelf, also made of white marble, with neatly folded cotton cloths of various sizes.

Loki moved as if through a dream: slow and reluctant, stepping past the round marble pool, his thoughts reduced to a white noise while his lungs ached with strain of drawing breath. He bent over the bowl, splashing his face with cool liquid a few times. It helped somewhat; smoothing the disarray that were his thoughts and granting his lungs a reprieve.

But the water could not wash away the truth of this day, seared onto Loki’s mind for all ages.

Exhaling deeply, Loki stared at his own reflection in the water: he looked the same as he had upon waking this morning, as he had yesterday. Only, that was a lie. Nothing was as it had been this morning, and nothing ever would. Thor has seen to that.

On impulse, Loki lifted his fingers to his mouth, tracing its shape. He could no longer taste Thor, nor could he see visible evidence of the kiss his brother had stolen from him. He could feel it, though: like a searing brand upon his soul, marking him so profoundly Loki saw no hope of ever setting himself free of it.

Loki did not move for a long time. He kept staring at his refection long after his face has dried. He did not move even when he heard the loud banging noise coming from the front door: he wondered, vaguely, would Thor – for it was Thor, who else would have been foolish and arrogant enough to disturb Loki in such a way? – be senseless enough to actually force his way inside Loki’s chambers?

A small and vicious part of Loki wanted it to happen: he could feel the tendrils of dark fury coil tightly around his heart. But the larger part of him, the one aware of the shortness of his breath and the unsteady rhythm of his heart knew how unwise his desire was.

The banging had stopped after a while, followed by heavy silence. Loki thought he heard a muffled sound of his brother’s voice coming through the thick wood, but decided it was no more than a figment of his imagination.

Where else but within Loki’s mind would he ever have heard Thor plead for anything?

 

****

 

Loki slowly pushed open the door that led to Thor’s chambers. He found them shrouded in darkness, but he needed no light to show him the way: he knew these quarters by heart.

He moved with deliberate steps, breathing steadily; a welcome change from the turmoil of his heart and mind that lasted entire day, stretching into the late hours of the night.

Loki had not planned on seeing Thor, not this early after… after Thor’s madness, fully intending to ignore his brother’s lapse in reason. Not forever, though. Forever would have been noble and, perhaps, the only reasonable choice, but Loki has never laboured under the delusion of his own nobility, electing practicality instead.

After all, there were not many things Loki could hold over his perfect elder brother.

But Loki’s decision had lasted only until the first shadows of the night have covered Asgard. 

It was infuriating and pathetic and wretchedly inconvenient, but Loki could not draw his thoughts from what had occurred between him and Thor. Could not even feign composure. Each time he had closed his eyes, intent on sleeping, he found himself back in that cave: ground hard and uncomfortable underneath his back, and Thor’s mouth warm, rough and demanding against Loki’s.

Loki had been struggling for three hours before it had become apparent that ignoring what had occurred would be impossible. It gnawed on him, burrowing deep within his thoughts, and refusing to relent; whispering poison and clawing at his heart.

With defeat came clarity, and with it grim resolve: not peace, not even remotely, but Loki has long since learned the bitter taste of having to settle for the consolation prize.

Loki did not expect to find his brother sleeping, despite the late hour. If Loki’s attempts at regaining equilibrium have failed, he could scarce imagine his short-tempered, impetuous brother succeeding. He did, however, entertain the thought of Thor stalking the taverns of Asgard, finding that which Loki had denied him in willing body.

An image flashed before Loki’s mind’s eye: hands tangled within blonde hair, Thor’s head buried in the crook of a long neck, slender legs wrapped around his brother’s waist as his hips rutted against the body he held pressed against a wall.

Loki breathed through the sudden painful lurch of his stomach, swallowing the bile that rose within his throat, but continued his measured stride through his brother’s private chambers. What care was it of his where Thor slaked his lust? If his brother truly was-

“Have you come to state your judgement finally?” Thor said with grim amusement.

Loki halted his steps abruptly, his head whipping toward the source of the sound, but finding only a dark silhouette, outlined by a patch of moonlight streaming from a large double doors leading to a balcony.

Pushing back annoyance at having been caught unaware, Loki flicked his wrist, making the lamp hanging on the wall nearest to Thor blaze to life with yellow light, revealing the sight of his brother: sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall, dressed in nothing but light breeches.

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Loki swept his gaze over a large pitcher of mead and a single cup, placed on the ground next to his brother. But when his eyes locked on Thor’s, Loki found them filled with misery and shame, and entirely sober.

That… was surprising.

“Do you think it is not within my right, _brother_?” Loki asked with mock softness. Thor flinched at the bitter inflection of the word ‘brother’, looking away briefly.

Loki stared at Thor with level gaze, noting the stiff line of his shoulders, and the way his fingers curled and uncurled in his lap. Loki could not deny the vicious glee he got from watching his brother’s distress, but it brought him hollow satisfaction.

A deep sigh of resignation left Thor’s mouth as he looked up at Loki. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders, his eyes fixed levelly on Loki’s.

“I behaved beyond reason and pardon,” Thor said in a low but steady voice of one prepared to meet the executioner’s axe without fear. “But believe me when I say it was never my intent to hurt you.”

A bark of mirthless laughter tore from Loki’s throat. “What was your intent, then, Thor?” Loki said, eyeing his brother with indignant gaze. He could see Thor flinch, his face contorting into a pained grimace as he struggled not to look away. “Were you bored?”

Thor blinked, confusion and hurt flashing in his eyes. “Loki, I-” he started but Loki merely continued talking, uncaring of Thor’s words, uncaring even of the way his own voice rose in volume: bitter and brittle. “Have the Realms lost all their appeal so you though to seek it in the one place you should not?”

Thor’s frown deepened, the muscles of his jaw twitching. “That is not-” Thor’s voice broke, his eyes flashing with helpless frustration. His naked chest rose with quick and shallow breaths: loud in the otherwise silent chamber. “Why must you twist everything?”

Loki’s lips curled over his teeth. “And somehow I am to blame yet again for your selfishness,” Loki sneered. There was a pressure within his chest: unrelenting and merciless, and Loki knew not whether it was fury or hurt, could not discern between the two. “Half of Asgard would welcome the chance to have your eyes cast upon them in desire,” Loki paused, catching air, his voice shaking like leaves in the wind. Thor looked as if he would have bleed nothing but misery and shame were Loki to cut him open. “What idiocy made you turn them toward _me_?”

“I do not care what Asgard wishes, nor do I want anyone else,” Thor exclaimed, the truth forced from within his chest in one mighty roar: wretched and fierce in equal measure. “I want _you_!”

Loki’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing around words that refused to leave his throat: stunned into silence.

Thor’s eyes, too, were wide and startled; as if only now, when it was too late to take the words back, he realized what he had confessed to. Then, he blinked, swallowed, the shock bleeding out of his eyes, leaving behind nothing but longing – raw, unguarded, and _ferocious_. It made Loki’s heart clench painfully inside his chest.

“Loki,” Thor said, his voice rough with emotion, and made a step forward.

Without thought, Loki backed away a step. Thor halted instantly, looking ashamed. For some reason it made Loki’s vision flare red.

“I know you loathe being denied anything, Thor,” Loki sneered, voice dripping with venom, “but I must admit this eclipses even your selfish arrogance.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed minutely, his forehead creasing into a frown. “You may insult me, and with good reason, Loki,” Thor said, “but do not make mockery of what I feel for you.”

“Who of the two of us has made mockery of the ties that bind us, brother mine?” Loki said, each word carefully chosen, and, judging by the way Thor winced, each hitting its mark perfectly. 

“Do you think I have chosen this… this madness that ails me?” Thor said after a moment of silence, his hands balling into fists. His gaze seemed haunted, his expression wounded. Loki grit his teeth, keeping his face impassive. But he could not command his heart – it writhed within his chest, pathetic and foolish, desperate for one word of Thor’s that would set everything to right again.

That he might have his brother back.

“No one has forced you into kissing me, Thor,” Loki said, loathing the note of despair that has trickled into his voice, but unable to mask it fully. “That you have done of your own volition.”

Thor looked away. Loki could see his throat work as he swallowed once, twice; the muscles of his arms twitching as if it was a struggle for him to stay still. Loki’s eyes strayed toward the ever-broadening expanse of his brother’s shoulders and chest – his own physique showed no such promise – and he had to drag them forcibly away, felt a flush rise to his cheeks.

Loki mastered himself quickly, while Thor was busy looking everywhere but at Loki, annoyed at himself, and more so with Thor: they have slept in the same bed as children, they have seen each other naked countless times, and Thor has ruined it all. Now every glance and every touch held a promise of something more, something forbidden. And the worst thing: the twist in the pit of Loki’s stomach at the realization was not of horror but thrill. 

“Yes,” Thor said in a low, strained voice. Loki blinked, startled out of his thoughts. Thor did not seem to notice, looking as if he, too, had been lost within himself. “What I have done,” Thor paused, as if struggling for words or air, Loki could not tell, “I have done out of my own folly and… and selfishness. But believe me when I say it, brother,” the last word did not slip with usual ease from Thor’s mouth, coming out ragged and aching, “I have tried to do you… to do us both well.”

A low snort left Loki’s mouth, his eyebrow arching in disbelief.

Thor’s mouth curved on the edges, forming a mirthless smile that looked… _wrong_ on Thor’s face. Loki frowned, uncertain why it made breath stutter inside his throat. There was sadness in Thor’s eyes that did not belong there: Thor had not been born for the quiet ache of it, he was made for fire and passion and destruction, but not for sorrow. 

“Why do you think I stayed away from you all this time?” Thor said.

“What?” Loki said, numbly. Entire year he had resented Thor, watching from the side as his brother shunned him, choosing instead the company of others: laughing at their jests and sharing with them what ought to have been Loki’s… and all because he feared to be in Loki’s company.

Loki felt laughter well within his throat, but locked his jaw against it: there was not an ounce of joy to it, but something ugly and bitter. All this time he had been tormented by thoughts of losing his brother to indifference, and now he was to lose him to _lust_.

“I’ve tried to fight this madness that has taken root inside my heart but I couldn’t stop desiring you in a way no brother should,” Thor said, sounding wretched. And he looked miserable and lost, nothing like the arrogant and brazen brother Loki remembered. “I could not force you out my head or my blood, and I feared what I could do-” Thor’s voice broke, his face contorting into a grimace of utter despair. Loki’s throat was sandpaper-dry, and his chest ached: he had come here to seek a resolution, and found himself caught within a storm he had no hope of controlling.

Thor looked down at his hands, clenched tightly into fists, his breathing loud and jarring in the silence of the room. Loki suddenly wanted to flee, to leave Thor to his madness before-

But Loki could not move, held in place by something that was unfolding from within his chest, something that far surpassed his will. He was standing still, but he felt like his feet were dragging him toward cliff’s edge: steady and certain in their folly.

Thor looked up, dragging his hand across his face. He, too, looked as if he would have given anything not to be there.

“I could not trust myself to be near you, Loki,” Thor said, his voice tinged with something Loki has rarely heard from his brother so it took him a moment to recognize it for what it was: defeat. “So I removed myself from your vicinity, no matter how much it pained me to do so.”

“Obviously, something has made you change your mind,” Loki heard himself speak over the rush of blood in his ears, asking a question to which he was not entirely certain he wanted the answer. “What was it?”

When he had been very young, no more than a boy, there was a large rock inside his Mother’s garden. For years Loki had been trying to overturn it, careful not to let Thor see him try, knowing his brother would have succeeded where Loki could not; to help or to spite, it mattered little. Then, one warm summer’s day, Loki had managed to move the rock, finding a hole underneath. To this day, Loki could not tell what was the creature that bit his hand; its poison quickly spreading from the wound through his entire body. Thor had probably saved his life that day, by dragging his half-unconscious brother to the healing chambers. He could have died that day, a victim to his own curiosity. His penance: a few hours of agony as the poison battled the healer’s magic, followed by three weeks of bed rest.

Loki wondered, faintly, what would be the price of overturning this particular rock, and tempting to the surface that which should have stayed buried. He would survive its sting, of that he was certain, but he was old enough to know that there were worse things than death.

Thor’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I have thought myself well again. Free of sickness that has tormented me day and night for months,” Thor said, something hard and dark seeping into his voice. “I was mistaken.”

“How so?” Loki asked, even if he knew better.

Thor took a step forward, then halted; his eyes set on Loki’s face unblinkingly, gauging his reaction. When Loki remained still and silent, Thor took another step, then another, until he stood within arm’s reach of Loki.

“I have feared losing you to my own misbegotten desires,” Thor said. He no longer looked lost or pained, his eyes locked upon Loki’s face: hiding nothing of the desire he had confessed to. A shiver ran down Loki’s spine. Loki wished dearly it had been caused by fear or horror, and not the surge of heat settling low within his belly. “It has never occurred to me that I would lose you to someone else.”

Loki blinked as the words settled inside his head, their meaning drawing a surge of bitterness within Loki’s chest. It was so like Thor to play at nobility for months, unthinking of the grief he might have caused Loki with his behaviour, then forsake it entirely in one moment of possessive, blind jealousy.

It occurred to Loki then, in a blinding flash of pure perfection, that he could reap his vengeance easily: pick apart his brother’s heart and pride all at once, and do it with the weapon the fool himself has thrust into Loki’s hand.

Loki could feel the words forming upon his tongue: cruel and taunting, and so very much what Thor had deserved. The temptation to open his mouth and give them voice stilled Loki’s lungs for one brief moment: in front of his mind’s eye he could clearly see Thor’s face twisting in agony of hurt and helpless fury.

With a low sigh of regret Loki swallowed the words: he could not do it. And not out of nobility or mercy or even love he felt for his idiot of a brother.

Loki had been lying to himself, and poorly at that, but there were none as blind as those who refuse to see. The lie was no more, it faded in the face of Thor’s confession and Loki’s own reaction: there was no disgust in the tight coil low in Loki’s stomach, and no horror in his racing pulse.

Loki allowed himself a flicker of a smile as he stared at Thor’s stormy eyes, darkened by jealousy and hunger.

“There is no secret lover, Thor,” Loki said softly. “It was… a jest, no more than that.”

Thor frowned. “But, the book-”

“A mere illusion to anger _you_ ,” Loki admitted, still smiling. The frown on Thor’s face deepened, but there was something else rising behind the curtain of confusion and suspicion within Thor’s gaze. Something bright, nearly blinding. “I had no idea to what lengths my innocent game would take you, Thor.”

Thor still seemed unconvinced. Hope and suspicion waged a heavy battle within him; a battle that was evident in his eyes. “But why would you have led me to believe you had a lover?”

Loki swallowed a snort, sorely tempted to roll his eyes. “I did no such thing,” Loki pointed out with a half-shrug. “You came to that conclusion all on your own, and then you proceeded to haunt my steps, determined to find out who he was.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously. “You could have told me the truth, and not-” Thor paused, taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, the anger drained from his voice; the hurt did not. “That was cruel of you, Loki.”

Loki’s smile slipped from his lips. “So was you ignoring me for an entire year,” Loki retorted, glaring at Thor.

Thor blinked, frowned. Then, slowly, his face softened into an expression Loki knew well: warm affection entwined with fond amusement, there was even a hint of familiar exasperating smugness in the upward curve of Thor’s mouth.

Thor reached forward, his fingers sliding in the hair on the nape of Loki’s neck as they have done countless times before. Loki allowed it without a second thought, and for a moment, it was as if nothing has changed, and they _them_ again. Brothers.

The moment grew into another, followed by another, and Loki found himself relaxing into Thor’s touch: warm and comforting after year’s absence, easy and comfortable silence descended upon them like the sweetest lullaby. 

Then, something shifted in the air between them. Thor’s hand moved, slid lower, his fingers wrapping loosely around Loki’s neck in a gesture that was nothing but possessive, his thumb brushing the pulse point on Loki’s neck.

Loki swallowed – or tried too, at least – as the warmth of his brother’s touch grew heated, and the affectionate gaze of blue eyes turned dark with hunger.

“Loki,” Thor forced out, his voice rough and thick with lust as he stepped closer, his fingers tightening faintly their grip around Loki’s throat.

An involuntary shudder ran through Loki’s body, heat blazing from his brother’s fingers and burrowing underneath Loki’s skin and seeping into his blood. He tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his throat to Thor’s questing fingers, uncaring of symbolism of the gesture, or his own traitorous pulse – racing madly underneath Thor’s thumb. Uncaring of all but the simple need for _more_.

Loki barely managed to stifle a whimper when Thor pulled back, a look of guilt clear in his eyes.

“Brother, I,” Thor stammered, his voice coming out strangled. Loki stared at him, his thoughts hazy and unfocused, and his entire body aching for the return of Thor’s fingers. Then, squaring his shoulders, Thor took a deep breath, his gaze resting levelly on Loki’s face. “I have wronged you brother, gravely so, and I will accept any punishment you choose to meet out,” Thor paused, his face briefly contorting into a grimace. “If it is your will, I will stand before Father-”

Loki stopped listening then, the haze of lust clearing from his mind due to Thor’s utterly ridiculous posturing and absurd offering. The idiot would do it, of that Loki was certain. Irrationally, it sent a surge of fierce affection – and exasperation – through the hollow of Loki’s chest.

Loki tilted his head, allowing his gaze to sweep across his brother’s handsome face, down the wide expanse of chest, stopping at the waistline of Thor’s breeches, and back again. Magnificent, that was the only word that came to Loki’s mind. Strangely, it did not burn nearly as much as it used to.

“Of course I won’t go to Father about this,” Loki cut in sharply. The stream of words halted, Thor’s expression that of startled confusion. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Thor looked hurt at the remark, his brow creasing into a frown. A beat later his expression shifted into that of frustration. A low, pained noise left Thor’s mouth, his arms spreading in a helpless gesture. He made as if to step forward, but stopped himself, his chest heaving with the effort of restraint.

“I cannot stop myself from desiring you!” Thor exclaimed, loud and sharp and desperate. Then, softer, “I don’t know how.” 

Loki regarded Thor silently one moment, barely managing to keep his voice steady when he opened his mouth, and said, “Kiss me.” 

In any other situation Loki would have enjoyed dearly the sight of Thor’s dumbstruck face, but not in that moment. Despite the illusion of composure, he ached inside, feeling raw and exposed.

 _Vulnerable_.

“What?” Thor said finally, looking at Loki as if he had grown a second head.

Swallowing an impatient growl, Loki stepped closer until there was only a breath of space between their bodies. Then, he looked up at Thor’s wide, startled eyes, and repeated, “Kiss me.”

Thor looked torn: as if he had been granted his heart’s dearest desire, but feared it to be a curse.

“Don’t toy with me, Loki,” Thor grated out, his eyes dark and wild-looking, flickering toward Loki’s lips as if drawn there against Thor’s will. His hands rose, fingers wrapping with bruising strength around Loki’s upper arms. “Not about this.”

Loki felt exhilarated: feverish even. He could almost taste his brother’s desire and despair; feel his crumbling resolve. He wanted to howl with laughter. Instead, he smiled and reached with his right hand, tracing the outline of Thor’s mouth, his brother’s breath hot and moist on the tips of his fingers.

“You have stolen a kiss from me,” he said, oh so softly. Thor shivered, his fingers tightening around Loki’s arms almost painfully. He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark and stormy, and full of hunger. Loki’s smile widened. “Why won’t you take it now, when I offer it freely?”

“Loki,” Thor said, the word no more than a ragged whisper. He was standing at the very edge of control, Loki knew it. His eyes searched Loki’s with desperate urgency, seeking a lie, or a trap, Loki could not tell, nor did he care. He would not find it; that too, Loki knew. “ _Brother_.”

“Yes,” Loki breathed in triumph the second before Thor crashed their mouths together.

It was the last coherent thing Loki had said for a long, _long_ time that night.


End file.
